John Bonham played his drum solo, “Moby Dick,” for fifteen minutes. When the band walked off, after two and a quarter hours, and the houselights came on, the kids (who expected a three-hour show) stood and booed for as long as “Moby Dick” had lasted.
Somewhat dispirited, with the tour doctor unnerved because Robert wasn’t responding to treatment and felt horrible, Led Zeppelin boarded its Starship and flew back to Chicago in bone-chilling, subzero weather.
CHAPTER 10 Savant of the Occult
Chicago was freezing, well below zero. From the windows of their hotel suite, the band could see that Lake Michigan was frozen over. In a brief phone call, Danny Goldberg told me morale was low in the Zeppelin camp. Robert Plant was now running a fever. The doctor diagnosed influenza and put him on antibiotics. Jimmy Page’s hand hurt like hell, and he was drinking Jack Daniel’s to deaden the pain. John Bonham was irritated that he had placed below girl drummer Karen Carpenter in Playboy magazine’s music poll. John Paul Jones was never around, showing up only for the concerts.
The first concert at Chicago Stadium (January 20) was an embarrassment for the band. Robert was trying to perform with the flu, about which he reminded the 20,000 customers five times during the show. (Many girls in the audience realized that they had the same kimono-wrap blouse that Robert was wearing onstage.) “Sick Again” now came right after the opening salvo of “Rock and Roll,” and “How Many More Times” was brought from a four-year oblivion to sub for “Dazed.” Then the backline—the electric cable that powered the stage—went dead. It took a while to get it right, as Peter Grant fumed with rage at the side of the stage. During a strenuous guitar solo in “Kashmir,” a fan up front threw a white sock, which hit Jimmy Page in the face. This was followed by the sock owner’s sneaker, but Page was able to duck. The show ended with “Whole Lotta Love,” followed by a cannonade of encores: “Black Dog” and “Communication Breakdown.”
In the past, the band liked to go back to its hotel for refreshment and then go out to discos and clubs. (Richard Cole later told me he preferred to take the band to gay clubs because no one ever pestered them.) They tried this in Chicago, without Robert, usually the life of the party; the doctor had sent Robert to bed. No one had much fun.
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